


What the Darkness Does

by fencecollapsed



Category: Hatchetfield Universe - Team StarKid
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Bill and Paul are BUDDIES, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Ghosts, He's a lost soul, Horror, Human/Monster Romance, It gets a little sad, Memory Loss, Mystery, Paul is a shadow beast, Spirits, Walks In The Woods, adding more tags as this goes, but like the fun kind, i've been doing this for a while you'd think i'd get better at tags, major character death really just because Paul is Already Dead when the story starts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-21
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-03-12 13:08:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28885878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fencecollapsed/pseuds/fencecollapsed
Summary: A series of connected vignettes detailing what happens when Emma Perkins meets a mysterious, blue-eyed shadow beast in the Hatchetfield witch woods.
Relationships: Hannah Foster & Paul Matthews, Paul Matthews/Emma Perkins, Tim Houston & Emma Perkins
Comments: 38
Kudos: 71





	1. the barista meets the beast

**Author's Note:**

> it was unavoidable that I'd write a fic about this au since I started thinkin about it tbh. I'm going to finish ibiaictae before I get too in depth with this one, this is gonna be pretty loose and chill at the start, but I've got some Ideas and I hope I can expand on them in a fun way with a little series! I hope y'all enjoy

Emma fluffed out one of her spare blankets and let it flutter down over nephew, who lounged with a yawn on her sofa. Tom had agreed to let Emma have him over for the night, while he organized a date with Becky Barnes. Though Emma had been a little nervous, the evening had gone well, and she may have managed to score herself some extra Cool Aunt Points by letting Tim have extra ice cream after dinner.

"There. You comfy, bud?" She asked, pulling one corner of the blanket over.

"Yep!"

"So, how's this work, do you just go to sleep, are you too old for a bedtime story, or…?"

Tim raised a brow at his aunt. “Do you  _ have _ a bedtime story?”

Emma shrugged innocently. “I might.”

“That sounds like you do.”

“And that sounds like  _ you _ want a bedtime story.” Emma grinned at her nephew, who crossed his arms expectantly and slumped down into his makeshift nest of blankets on Emma’s pullout sofa. “I’ll take that as a yes. You’re into spooky stuff, right, like those zombie movies? Y'know, when we were kids your mom sometimes told me stories from old Hatchetfield legends. I never really got into them, I thought they were stupid, but that was before I ended up lost in the witch woods and met the shadow man."

Tim frowned. "I've never heard of a shadow man."

"Well, you've heard of lost souls, right?"

"I guess."

"That's what he is."

Tim wrinkled his nose, like he was considering that. Emma couldn't help the amused snicker in her chest at the idea of a nine-year-old critiquing her bedtime story like an esteemed folklore writing snob. He laid back, though, peering up at her.

"Keep going."

"Okay." Emma laughed a bit. "So lost souls can come in plenty of forms, but the shadow man is exactly what he sounds like, he's a man made of shadow. His body is a pitch black silhouette, blacker than the darkest night. It consumes all the light it touches, like a black hole, but he's shaped like a tall man. He can hide from you by blending in with the trees, skulking in the dark. He can disguise himself as  _ your _ shadow - he may follow you for miles in the woods without you knowing. But if you're smart, and you know what to look for, you can spot him."

"So you can catch him?" Tim interrupted.

"What? No."

"Lost souls are evil, though. They try to trap people in the woods."

"No they don't," Emma countered defensively, her arms pulling over her chest. "I mean, not all of them."

"That's what the legend's about, Aunt Emma."

"Tim, bud, do you want me to tell my story or not?"

Tim mimed zipping his lips shut and settled back once again. Emma pointedly waited a good few seconds before continuing.

_ "If _ you know what to look for, you'll look for his eyes. They're big, bright, and blue. Can't miss 'em when they're open, if you're paying attention. But once you see them, you'll want to keep an eye on that mass of shadow, because he'll try to hide again. And if you  _ can _ follow him, you might see his wolf tail, or the sharp spines on his back, or the big, pointy animal ears that stick out from his head and follow the sounds around him. When he moves he looks less like a person."

Emma gestured for emphasis as she spoke, holding both hands up over her ears in a perked position, attempting to resemble the pointed ears of a bobcat. That was what the shadow man's ears reminded her of. She watched Tim, not wholly convinced but actively entertained, and wondered if Jane would gesture when she told stories, too. Emma couldn't quite remember, and suddenly found herself wishing she'd paid a little more attention when they were kids instead of brushing it off as stupid. She quickly swallowed that feeling, though, and went on with the story.

"There's singing, too, if you ever think you hear music in the witch woods, that's the shadow man." She said.

"That sounds like someone who wants to lure people into getting trapped in the woods." Tim said.

Emma groaned, exasperated. "Tim!"

"Sorry! He sounds like a monster!"

"Not all monsters are evil, bud. What kind of crap does your dad show you?" Emma shook her head, waving her hands around. "God, nevermind. My shadow man  _ is _ a monster, but he's not evil. He's friendly."

"So he didn't try to trap you when  _ you _ met him."

"Nope." Emma grinned. "You wanna hear what  _ did _ happen?"

"...Yeah."

"Okay. A couple weeks ago I got this freeform assignment for my plant biology class, and I went out to the witch woods to see if I could find some cool flora to study."

\--

Emma recalled the cloudy, slightly damp early autumn day she'd chosen to trudge through the witchwood. Primarily because of the way her hiking boots sunk into the grass with every step. Perhaps she should have chosen a brighter day, a little longer after it had rained, but she'd seen much worse conditions. The cool air was crisp but heavy and Emma stuffed her hands into her jacket pockets against the chill. The woods were washed in the greyish blue of the overcast sky, and she could hear squirrels chittering and birds chirping in the trees. 

She reared up her shoulders to adjust her backpack. It felt wrong being so light, only carrying her notebook stuffed with assignment details, her pencils, a bag of trail mix, her phone, and her water bottle. For ten years she'd carried her whole life in a backpack. The lack of weight on a hike like this was strange, she kept feeling like she'd forgotten something. She kept her eyes fixed off the trail, scanning for something interesting she could study. 

That was all she was doing for a while, until the first time she saw her shadow shift.

It was cast to the side in front of her. Nothing out of the ordinary, until she paused on the trail to dig out her water bottle and from the corner of her eye caught her own shape warping mid-sip. A large pair of ears poked out from the head, twitching to follow the ambient sounds of the woods. Emma choked on the water in her throat and hacked, eyes wide, but the ears had vanished by the time she was able to double take. She brushed it off as a trick of the light.

Stashing the bottle, Emma kept walking, clicking her tongue in time with her trudging steps. A near identical clicking chitter seemed to echo her, but she didn't think much of it. The woods were full of strange sounds.

The rattling of a woodpecker hammering away drew her eyes up to the trees. The bird perched up high on the trunk seemed to pause to look right at her, and in the overcast shadows its eyes almost looked purple. Before Emma could blink to clear her vision and get a proper look, the bird fluffed out its pretty, black and white spotted wings, and took off, flying overhead. Emma watched it disappear beyond the treetops, followed by a scattering of more birds that seemed to look right at her before taking off and joining the flock.

Her brows knit, a strange feeling settling in the pit of her stomach.

"Hm." 

She flexed her grip on her backpack straps and carried on. She kicked a stray pinecone out of her path, sending it sideways into the trunk of a tree with a little  _ klok.  _

That was when her shadow moved again.

It seemed to  _ flinch,  _ like the dark form was cowering into itself in response to the kick. Emma froze, jaw set, and the shadow was still again. She rubbed her eyes,  _ knowing  _ she’d seen something this time, but instead of her own shadow moving this time she caught movement behind her from the corner of her eye.

“What the-?” She turned around. “What’s going on? Is someone following me back there?”

There was no verbal response. Instead the wind seemed to pick up, but only in volume. Emma felt no harsher breeze to accompany the slight howling sound that filled the air surrounding her. Beneath it sounded like an erratic but melodic buzzing of some kind, a rattling, chittering collection of anxious sounds she couldn’t quite place all together. And beneath that a very soft, almost inaudible voice.

_ “Back. Back there. Go back.” _

"Hello?" Emma called, whirling around, trying to track the shadow at the corner of her vision, but she saw nothing.

The echo surrounded her.  _ “Hello, hello. Hello, hello?”  _

Emma tightened her grip on her backpack straps. "This isn't funny, jackass! Get out here!"

_ “Out. Get out. Get out.” _

She turned again and squinted over her shoulder. She should have felt threatened, probably. A mysterious voice in the fucking  _ witch woods _ surrounding her and telling her to get out? Textbook horror movie shit. But the voice was soft, almost  _ timid,  _ and Emma didn't feel threatened so much as confused, and a little unsettled. 

In a way, not feeling scared actually scared her a little more.

But Emma set her jaw and narrowed her eyes, still steadily turning, not planning to stop until she caught whoever was hiding from her. A  _ flashlight, _ she realized suddenly. She should have packed a fucking flashlight in her bag. She silently cursed herself, but didn't waver. It wasn't that dark yet. Whoever it was, she'd spot them.

"I don't know what you're trying to pull, but I'm not in the fucking mood!" She yelled. "Come out!"

The voice didn't answer this time. Emma huffed and stopped turning, spotting the shadow shift behind her again. She whirled around in the other direction, and just barely managed to catch the movement right where her own shadow ended up cast at the base of the closest tree. She stepped forward, squinting. Had they hidden behind the tree?

"I know you're there, asshole. I've dealt with stalkers before, you don't fucking scare me."

An almost indignant chittering sounded from the trees.

_ “Stalker?!” _

"Uh,  _ yeah?  _ You're kinda following me in the woods, man.”

The chittering quieted. The sound of a breeze whooshed past Emma but she still felt no air. 

_ “Not trying to stalk.” _

The voice sounded apologetic, anxious. Emma watched the shadows around the tree shift seemingly on their own. Before she could say anything the voice came again.

_ “You get out. Go back.” _

Something dark immediately rushed from the trees and swept past her. With it came an indignant stubbornness in Emma and without further thought she spun on her heel to follow.

“Hey!” She yelled, running after the figure.

It moved something like a man and something like a wolf. The way it seemed to pause, ears up like it was listening for her, only to keep running, made Emma think deer as well. She gained on the figure and her hand shot out fast enough to grab onto her culprit, as she dug her boots into the damp dirt to keep them both still.

“Gotcha!”

Emma’s triumphant grin died the second she looked up and caught a glimpse of the  _ thing _ she’d grabbed, standing above her in a patch of dwindling sunlight.

A somewhat man-shaped mass of pitch black shadow,  _ tall, _ sharp-looking spines protruding from its hunched back. The same pointed ears she thought she’d seen earlier stuck out from its head, twitching anxiously and ruffling its fluffy hair. The only feature within the dark silhouette was its big, round eyes, a vibrant light blue set against the black hole of darkness. Emma’s grip was secured around a wrist, the thing’s clawed hand balled into a fist. Its big eyes creased slightly into frightened crescents, a quiet yipping sound filling the air, like a scared animal.

Emma was frozen in shock. 

“...What  _ are _ you?”

She couldn’t keep her grip when the creature yanked away and fled back into the surrounding shadows.

“Hey, wait!” She stumbled into a clumsy run, squinting to keep track of the movement as the creature disappeared into a small thicket. She flung her hands up in a gesture of peace - this thing was clearly more scared of her than she was of it. “I’m not gonna hurt you! At least, as long as you’re not gonna hurt me.” 

She slowed her approach, keeping her hands up. Slowly, the creature’s bright eyes emerged from the dark of the thicket, fixed on her.

_ “Not gonna hurt you.” _

“Okay.” Emma said, nodding.

_ “Okay. Okay.” _

Emma laughed a little, watching the creature’s ears twitch and flatten as she slowly came closer. She gestured her raised hands up a little further. It -  _ he _ \- stayed still, watching her intently, head cocked to the side.

“This is as fucking weird to me as it is to you, I swear,” She scoffed a little at herself. “But I think we’re fine, right? I mean, you  _ seem _ pretty chill.” She held out her hand. “I’m Emma.”

The creature studied her cautiously, chirping softly. He reached out his own hand and took hers, and Emma felt the hairs at the back of her neck stand on end at how  _ strange _ the touch felt. It really was like a living shadow; not fully corporeal, an odd, wispy kind of softness to it, and warm. A little frozen, still processing everything about this creature, Emma awkwardly shook the hand in hers, stepping back as he moved to step out from the thicket. Standing fully, he loomed tall over her, though hunched like an animal on its hind legs. Emma could see the wolfish tail sweeping side to side behind his legs.

_ “Emma. Pretty.” _

Emma snickered, still shaking the creature’s hand. “Well, I’ve never seen any other featureless shadow men, but I guess you’re not too bad yourself.”

The chittering in response was reminiscent of a quiet laugh. Emma smiled.

The creature glanced up at the sun setting behind the trees, then back at Emma, nodding over her shoulder towards the trail.  _ “Pretty Emma, go back.” _

Emma followed where he gestured and noticed she’d somehow made it back to the edge of the woods, around where she’d first entered. Her brows knit.

“What, you want me to leave?”

A strangely beautiful, almost melodic - Emma swore she heard a guitar strumming - hum of confirmation filled the air.  _ “Leave.” _

Frowning, Emma glanced up at the setting sun before digging her phone out of her pack to check the time. “I guess it is-”

That slight howling wind sound whooshed past again, and Emma looked up just in time to see the creature retreating back into the woods. She blinked.

“...kinda late.”

\--

The soft snoring of her nephew under the blankets pulled Emma out of the end of her story. Tim was sound asleep. Emma softly brushed his curly hair out of his face and stood up, turning the living room light off and heading back to her own bedroom. She hadn’t quite gotten to all she’d wanted to tell, but that was fine. If he liked it, she’d have more to tell the next time he stayed over. 

It seemed pretty likely that he  _ would _ be staying over again when Tom picked him up in the morning.

“Thanks for taking him for the night, Emma, it was a big help.” Tom said, ruffling the boy’s hair.

“Ah, no problem,” Emma shrugged. “We had a good time, right bud?”

“Mhm!” Tim nodded.

“Alright, we’ll get out of your hair.” Tom shifted Tim’s overnight bag onto his shoulder. “See you for dinner next week, yeah?” 

“Sounds good. Later, Tom.” 

Emma waved, watching them head down the hall of the apartment complex. Once they’d gone, she stretched out her back and went back inside to gather up her things. She pulled on a vest, tied her hair up into a ponytail, and laced up her hiking boots, shoving a few snacks into her backpack and hefting it onto her shoulders before heading down to the complex parking lot herself, far enough behind to not run into them again. She tossed her bag in her car and slid in, drumming her fingers on the wheel. 

What could she say, talking about him made her want to see him again.

She walked with purpose into the woods, following the trail fairly deep until she felt her chances were good.

“Hey!” She called, to the response of a flurry of chirps and rustling leaves. She grinned, sure he was around. “You gonna come out, man? I told you last time, you can’t keep me from coming back.”

The chirps settled a bit, and Emma locked onto the big, blue eyes glowing within a cluster of trees. 

“I see you, dude.”

His chittering filled the woods, and the shadow man walked out, ears twitching.


	2. to find a beast his name

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emma spends some time with her shadow friend, and learns a bit more about him.

"I used to draw a lot in high school, y'know," Emma said, balancing her notebook on her knee as she worked to capture the petals of the patch of flowers in front of her on paper. "Not saying I was any  _ good,  _ but, hey, it was something."

She could see - and kind of feel - the shadow man drifting behind her on all fours. He radiated darkness, and he also radiated warmth. Emma felt it tingling on the back of her neck as he craned overhead, looking down at her paper with those big blue eyes.

_ "Good something." _

Emma paused and looked at her work, the eraser end of her pencil between her teeth. "You think so?" The warmth behind her dropped heavy suddenly and she tensed, the creature leaning over her with a huff, resting his head on top of hers. He hummed that weird little hum of his and Emma snickered. "Well thanks."

She sketched another curve on the stem, squinting at her flower of choice. It was a small patch of wild columbines - arched stem with pinkish-red petals billowing out downwards in the shape of twin bells, yellow pistils hanging down from within. Part of her assignment included an illustrated diagram of her chosen subject's anatomy, and it was possible she'd been putting off some of her classwork for some more  _ engaging  _ research.

Shadow people, like her new companion, were a part of Hatchetfield lore, when she went searching she did come up with results. But this lore wasn’t nearly as prevalent as the Willabella Muckwab, or Lumber-Axe the Mad Woodsman, or the Hatchetfield Ape-Man. They were just passing details, to make the woods feel spookier - even from the blog or two Emma found run by locals deeply invested in the lore of the witchwood, there was barely anything about shadow people. 

It was believed they were creatures formed from the lost, trapped souls of people who had died in the woods long ago. Apart from that, and vague warnings to avoid their presence lest you end up trapped, too, there was nothing. Nothing about  _ how _ they lured people, how they were made, how many there may be. No one could even try to describe the basics of what they looked like, or real signs of their presence apart from strangely moving shadows. People at least made  _ theories _ about the Hatchetfield Ape-Man.

Emma had managed, completely by chance and stubbornness, to stumble upon and befriend what was apparently one of the most elusive and mysterious creatures in the witchwood. If not, at least by majority, the most dangerous. 

She glanced up at him, still resting against her back, looking right back down at her. His eyes narrowed into squinty slits, like a contented cat, his chin nuzzling against the top of Emma’s head. She smiled. Dangerous was definitely not the right word for this one.

With a little sigh Emma turned back to her sketch, darkening the lines of the columbine’s arched stem.

"I guess I am pretty decent," she continued speaking mainly for the sake of her company's large ears. "Imagine how good I'd be if I hadn't stopped, though, right?" She swept eraser crumbs off the notebook into the grass. "Not that it matters, I wouldn't've done anything of value with it anyway. The arts don't make for 'real' careers, not like psychiatry. Especially when you didn't even go to college." Emma's flippant tone devolved into something a little softer and heavier. She hadn't meant to go there so quick.

She sat still and quiet, looking down at her page with a head filling of static until her companion nudged against her back and gave a concerned little coo. Emma shook herself and sat up, flipping her notebook closed dismissively. She grabbed her backpack off the low hanging branch of one of the surrounding trees and dug inside, mumbling an irritated  _ whatever _ to herself. She stashed the notebook and plucked out a granola bar. Slumping back against the base of the trunk, she crossed one leg over the other and ripped open the bar.

"I'd ask if you want some, but you don't have a mouth." She ribbed, glancing up at her companion.

The shadow man squinted at her, bewildered.  _ "Have a mouth!" _

"Oh, bullshit."

He shook his head.  _ "No bullshit." _

"Let me see."

He huffed. Emma grinned and waved her hand expectantly, and as the shadow man's eyes narrowed the black of his face split into a mouth, formed in a tense mimic of Emma's grin, revealing a row of massive, razor sharp white teeth. Emma's expression dropped into shock.

"Jesus  _ christ." _

The shadow man's grin widened, a little more natural as he buzzed out an attempt at a laugh, sounding like a squirrel had swallowed a chainsaw. 

"Well, sorry to snub you then, man," Emma said, laughing a little herself. "I assumed you just don’'t eat."

The creature tilted his head, sharp teeth vanishing back into shadow and puzzlement.  _ "Don't." _

Emma frowned. "Okay. What do you use that thing for, then? You clearly don't talk with it." She was met with a shrug and rolled her eyes. "Whatever. You want to try some?"

She held out the granola bar, of the chocolate and macadamia nut variety, as the shadow man dropped to sit down on his haunches beside her, leaning forward curiously. Emma broke off a chunk and offered it to him.

"I don't know how shadow people work, let me know if you've got allergies." She joked.

Her companion smiled, showing his teeth again. He took the bar in his mouth, and watching him eat it was clear he’d never eaten anything at all before. It was like he didn’t even know how to use his mouth, awkwardly chomping his big shark teeth around like he’d never even  _ opened _ his maw before. Granola crumbs spewed into Emma’s face.

“Dude, gross!” She shielded her face.

The shadow man squeaked like a frightened rabbit and covered his mouth.  _ “Sorry!” _

Emma laughed, brushing herself off, and bumped the creature’s arm with her own. He looked at her, eyes wide, and slowly built up that buzzing, not-quite-a-laugh sound again. Emma grinned and he bumped her in response.

“Well, you’ve eaten now,” she said. “Thoughts on granola?”

He squinted his eyes like he was thinking on it.  _ “...Decent?” _

Emma snickered. “Noted.”

She sunk a little further down against the tree trunk, tilting her head back to look up at the sky. For the two-ish weeks following her first encounter with the shadow man, she’d dropped by a few times given she had the time in between work and class. He was warming up to her fairly quickly, even if he always made her leave before sundown. She watched beside her as he clumsily mimicked the way she leaned back, pulling his legs up to his chest and curling his tail around his hip. It definitely seemed he was more accustomed to sitting like an animal than like a person. 

"That looks comfortable," She said.

He glanced down at himself, tail swishing, and tried to adjust a little, pushing himself up straighter. Emma snickered, breaking off another little piece of the granola bar to give him before taking a bite for herself. 

“Y’know, I should probably _ ask,” _ she said, voicing her thoughts as they came. “What’s your name? You have one?” 

He’d never given her one, but who knew, maybe it was just hidden like his mouth. The way he looked at her, though, it didn’t seem like that was the case.

_ “Name?” _

“What I’d call you, man. Mine’s Emma, you call me Emma.” She said, gesturing to herself, then to him. “I’ve got to assume your name isn’t  _ Dude _ or  _ Shadow Man.” _

He shook his head.  _ “Not. Don’t have one.” _

Emma frowned. He couldn’t have  _ never _ had one. She didn’t like the idea of that, or of never calling him by a real name. Something about that was disconcertingly upsetting to her, in a way she couldn’t quite explain. He couldn’t  _ just _ be some shadow. If the vague theories about the creature he was were right, he’d been a  _ person _ before. He still  _ was  _ a person, to a clear enough degree. She didn’t know if he remembered it, from the way it seemed so unfamiliar to him, but he had to be. He deserved to have a name. And  _ she _ deserved to have something to call him. 

“Do you  _ want _ one?”

_ “A name?” _

“Yeah.” He shrugged. “Okay, I'm gonna give you a name.”

_ “Okay.” _

“You’re gonna help me out though, I won’t saddle you with something you don’t like.”

_ “Okay.” _

Emma studied him. It was a little hard to come up with a fitting name when he didn’t have much of a face. She knew already she was sticking to human names - anything else would just feel strange.

“I guess you could be a Christopher?” She started off. “Chris for short?”

He gave a little rumble that didn’t sound too pleased with that.

“Okay, not that. Maybe John?” Another rumble. “Ben?” Another. “Daniel?” He shook his head and Emma sighed, sliding further down and stuffing another bite of her bar into her mouth. “I dunno, man, I’ve never been good at naming shit. I’m  _ not _ giving you an animal name, and you give me generic-white-guy-in-a-suit energy for some reason, that’s all I’ve got. Fuckin’  _ Wallace, _ maybe?”

_ “No.” _

“...Gary?”

He huffed.  _ “No.” _

Emma snorted. “You’re not really making this any easier, pal.”

Funny enough, she saw a tiny glint of recognition in his eyes at that, and he chittered curiously. Emma raised a brow.

“...Was  _ pal _ close?”

_ “Maybe.” _

“Jesus christ. Okay. Uh,  _ Sal?” _ Head shake. “Cal? Like Calvin?”

_ “No.” _

“Ughh,” Emma dragged a hand down her face.  _ “Pat?” _ Rumble. “Paul?”

He suddenly chirped, loud and right in her ear, and Emma jumped. His ears perked and his eyes wide with recognition, he chirped and chittered excitedly. Emma sat up straight.

“Paul? Is that it? Your name’s Paul?”

He seemed to think on it for a moment before nodding.  _ “Paul!” _

Emma grinned, and he grinned back. Somehow the name really suited him. “Well hi, Paul.” She said, holding out her hand.

She’d meant for him to shake it, but low enough in her reach Paul instead leaned forward and nuzzled his head against her hand, chittering cheerfully.  _ “Hi, Emma.” _

Laughing, Emma accepted it, moving her hand up to run through the softer fluff of his hair. Yeah,  _ dangerous _ definitely wasn’t the right word for this one.  _ Sweetheart _ was much more fitting.

\--

Emma and Paul sat together quietly, as the sun began its downward trek towards the horizon and the woods filled with the buzzing of cicadas. While she polished off the rest of her snack, from the corner of her eye Emma watched the shadow man’s ears twitch to the sounds, a soft echo sounding from him. She could also hear the sound of lightly falling rain despite the mostly cloudless sky, a distinctly melodic quality to his echoes as though he was harmonizing with the cicadas. Slowly, his own whispery vocalizing crept into the chorus until he was singing softly to himself, his eyes relaxed little crescents. 

Wiping crumbs off onto her jeans, Emma shifted a little to face him, watching. His head rocked slightly within the rhythm, clawed fists tapping together in his lap. 

Despite the calm, a good ways behind him, through the trees, Emma could see the shape of a wolf prowling, shrouded in shadow but padding quietly closer. She squinted - its eyes were the same blue as her companion’s. A similar shape formed slowly behind it - there were more than one. And the echoed sounds were growing louder, almost surrounding the area. 

Before Emma could observe any further, though, Paul suddenly jolted out of his contentment, first by her watching him, and second noticing the wolves. Emma tensed in turn as the spines on his back seemed to raise and he leapt to his feet, pushing her to stand, too. She scrambled to gather her things as he jostled her in the opposite direction, growling back at the approaching wolves like he’d been threatened. When Emma was suitably moving he took off in a bound on all fours, and Emma ran after him, weaving through the trees until he stopped again and instantly circled around her, ears perked and twitching wildly, watching like he was worried they’d been followed.

“...Paul?” Emma tried, stumbling to get her footing, and after a moment the shadow man huffed and faced her again. “You okay?”

_ “Okay.” _ He confirmed.  _ “Leave now.”  _

“What?”

He butted his head against her shoulder insistently.  _ “Leave.” _

"No! What the hell  _ was _ that?"

_ "Emma." _ He sank down so they were level, taking her by the shoulders.

"Paul."

He blinked, still not used to the name, then his ears flattened down and he nudged her again.

_ "Pretty Emma.  _ **_Leave._ ** _ " _

Emma sighed. It wasn't worth it to argue, knowing the sun was setting anyway. "Okay, fine. But I'll see you tomorrow." She pointed at him like it was a threat and gripped her backpack straps. "Later, Paul."

She turned and headed towards the outskirts of the woods, expecting him to have vanished when she glanced back like he had the other times. He hadn't this time, the shine of his big blue eyes watching her go intently. Against the growing darkness of the setting sun, it almost looked like a matching light blue glow outlined his body. Emma lifted her hand in a little wave and he mirrored the gesture. 

Paul watched her until she was out of his line of sight. Then he turned and headed back, further into the woods. Shadows stretched as the evening grew darker, and like an exhausted man seeking a rest under a comfortable blanket, Paul slunk into the darkest shelter available, unseen by design. He curled into himself, feeling his ears perk as he heard the shadow wolves howling, and resisted the urge to echo.


	3. a shadow in his home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A night with Paul.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey again! this is a pretty short one, just a little interval with Paul while I work on other stuff simultaneously, but I hope it's still enjoyable!

Shadow wolves were tenacious pursuers. Paul had been dealing with them for ages, and the fact remained as set as ever that he did  _ not _ want their company, no matter how hard they pushed. He stayed still in his shelter as their howling calls grew distant, and eventually silent. By the time they'd retired to their den for the night it was truly dark in the woods. 

Fucking  _ finally. _

Paul crept into the open, dizzy on his feet and exhausted. The wolves knew what they were doing when they howled like that. He could only hope that he could prevent them coming around when he had the company he  _ did _ want again. She didn’t need to see that. 

Clouds had gathered. He breathed in the damp, rainy night air, letting it wash over him and clear his head. The woods were his home, they always knew how to ground him. Cool droplets fell on his head, sinking into his wispy shadow form with a calming chill. It always felt like the rain fell _ through _ him. 

With a soft huff of a sigh and perking his ears up in all directions to ensure no further encounters, he comfortably left his shelter.

It had taken him some time to love his home. All he knew of the start of his existence was pain and pain and  _ pain, _ and once the pain stopped all he had was fear. He hadn’t known where he was, he hadn’t known  _ who  _ he was, all he knew was the horrible hurting and how fucking terrified he was that it would come back. Everything around him felt like a threat to hurt him again. It had taken time, but he’d learned that, though home to plenty an unsavory presence, the darkness of the woods was kind. It was gentle and welcoming, and one of the only familiarities Paul had ever had. When it was dark he couldn’t be seen, he couldn’t be hurt, and he couldn’t be frightened. He felt safe on the darkest, starless nights, when the moon wasn’t even a sliver in the sky, to wander as he pleased and sing quietly to himself. Where there was always a place to hide should he need it.

He enjoyed the rain, too; the light beating of sky water on the ground and the leaves, and the rumbling of thunder through the clouds was an orchestra to harmonize with, as well as mask his singing and keep him secure in his solitude. In the dark he could exist only for himself.

Drifting through the trees, Paul raised up his hand to feel the cool rainfall run through him, letting the echoes of strumming guitarists he'd heard playing around campfires over the years flow into the air. He liked that sound. He liked music. He liked singing. It felt wrong, sometimes, like it wasn’t really who he was, but that didn’t make sense. He’d always liked it. He’d always been like this, he’d always  _ been _ in the woods. The guitar chords lowered, the sound buzzing in his throat. He felt like he’d been reminding himself of that a lot more lately. It had been rare before, the feeling that he wasn’t quite himself, or that he didn’t really belong here despite never having known anything else, but recently it was coming up more often. 

Since he’d met Emma, actually. 

Paul had been  _ around _ humans before, in passing. He’d never actually  _ met _ one before Emma. Pretty Emma, who  _ chased _ him when he tried to run, and always came back even after he’d told her to go. Humans were no strangers to going places they didn’t belong; scaring hikers back to the outskirts of the woods when they veered too far off the trails too late at night and keeping wandering campers in check was old hat for Paul. He’d figured out a long time ago how to take what had once frightened him about the woods and turn it on the people who didn’t know their place. Emma wasn't afraid, though, she was curious. And she kept coming back and finding him, and Paul was  _ glad.  _ That was new. Stubborn humans made him nervous, it made him nervous to recognize campers and hikers, but Emma didn't make him nervous. 

Emma made him happy. A different kind of happy than nice music or rainy days or a big, comfortable patch of shadows. He didn't think he'd ever felt this kind before.

Because of Emma he had a  _ name. _ He was  _ Paul _ now and though it would take some getting used to, something about that felt important. Special. None of the others in the woods like him had names. None of the wolves did. He'd never been the only shadow, but he was the only Paul. And it was weird and different, but he liked it. 

He liked Emma and the way she talked to him, even if it was unfamiliar, even if  _ something _ about her made that off feeling a little more present.

A soft blue glow rose off the pitch black shape of Paul’s body. It surrounded him, lighting him up in the dark. His ears twitched, tail swishing nervously and he dove into a darker underbrush to conceal himself.

The shadows around him swallowed the glow, washed in a deep, twilight blue beneath the night. He huffed in relief. This was another thing Paul was getting used to on top of having a name now -  _ glowing. _ He didn’t  _ think  _ he’d seen any of the others do that before. He certainly hadn’t done it himself until recently. At the very least it wasn’t too difficult to figure out the most likely correlation, though if the others glowed Paul doubted it had anything to do with a pretty, snarky hiker.

_ “Emma,”  _ he murmured softly to himself, for no other reason than he liked the sound of her name. 

His song from the evening crept into his throat, echoes of buzzing cicadas, the gentle rushing of a stream to coincide with the falling rain, weaving in with tunes he’d heard before. Revisiting the song from when he was with her filled him with warmth as he drifted slowly through the underbrush, watching how the twilight blue colors shifted with his motion as they fully faded into the dark. When it was muted he actually found the glow very pretty. He continued on his night walk with leisure, carrying his hushed song with him.

The woods’ nocturnal life rustled softly around him. Most were just animals, unaffected by the shadows, but through the dark a few pairs of eyes like his peered, glowing purple from above, yellow through the thicket, white from lower on the ground. They would pay him no mind if he paid none to them. So he didn’t. 

He wandered peacefully undisturbed until the earliest golden-pink rays of sunlight began to spill over the horizon and through the clouds.

Emma had said  _ tomorrow, _ he would be seeing her again soon. He moved towards the outskirts of the woods and slunk beneath a small patch of trees, settling down within the shield they cast from the daylight. He watched the sun make its journey up, washing the post-rain woods in a soft, bright warmth through the retreating clouds, shifting as his shelter did. 

Mornings were mostly quiet save for the cheerful chirping of the waking birds, and sometimes another sound Paul enjoyed hearing. He could hear it softly drifting through the trees now; the light, melodic plucking of guitar strings. Well, it wasn’t  _ quite  _ a guitar, he knew that much. It sounded enough like one, though. As he always did when he heard music in the woods, Paul felt a draw to get closer. 

He crept silently through patches of shadow towards the clearing where the trailer sat, and the young girl in the twin braids and layers of denim and flannel lounged out on the steps strumming the strings of her instrument. 

He’d seen her before, but never  _ in  _ the woods. Always just here, which he could tell was her home. He didn’t worry about the girl much, just enjoyed the mornings when she played her music. She played for no one but herself, the same way he sang. It was nice. Her music was pretty. 

Paul wasn’t sure how long she’d been playing when the chord seemed to snap out of tune and stop altogether, but when he opened his eyes the girl was staring right at him with wide, grey eyes.

For a moment he stared right back. 

“Hello?” The girl said, starting to stand.

Paul panicked and fled back into the camouflage of the trees before she could step any closer to where she didn’t belong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading! <3

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! <3  
> comments always appreciated


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